


Hypothesis

by recrudescence



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recrudescence/pseuds/recrudescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'll pull Jayne aside later on, give him a very concerned piece of his mind for dragging not just a crew member but a <i>fugitive </i>into bed with him. The man's been known to think with body parts considerably lower than his brain plenty of times in the past, but this is something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Nakeno.

"So, you like it rough with my mercenary, I hear."

Mal strides right up and says it, just waiting for the reaction. See if Simon faints or just looks right back at him blankly.

"Wh-wha...?" They're careful--he doesn't have any marks on his neck, does he? He can't... Simon swallows and stares back down at the tablet he'd downloaded a new medical journal on. "Don't know what you're talking about." Stiffly.

Mal sits down, dead serious but also just plain amused at the obvious discomfort. "Son, we have a policy onboard."

"Policy... yes." Tip-tap of the nub-tipped pen on his tablet.

"Right. A policy that indicates relations between crew not interfere with the work needs doing. Seems you dream too enthusiastically, by the way. Might wanna have a chat with your sister about that."

Does he even _want_ to know? Simon clears his throat. "Dreams have nothing to do with reality. _Captain_."

"Glimpses of you coming out of a bunk ain't yours, all furtive, on the other hand...”

Eyebrows up. Finally able to drag his gaze to meet the blue across the table. "Never heard of a private exam, captain? Some people are skittish about infirmaries. It's normal."

"Funny, Jayne's never had any problem with 'em before. Maybe I should talk to him instead."

"Maybe. Either way, I don't think anything I'm doing in a medical standing is anyone else's business. And it's not interfering with anything you may call... 'work'"

"Medical standing. Mmm." Not believing it for a second and not giving any indication he does. "You just keep it out of sight and keep the noise down and, for God's sake, keep from killing each other." If having the two of them in each others' pants instead of at each others' throats is going to make things easier, well... Adding, "Hey, you've got a...thing there on your neck," just to watch Simon dart a hand upward and look horrified.

Which is damn telling, since there isn't a thing on his neck aside from a shiny red tie.

Scowl when he knows he's been outed, stabbing more viciously than need be at his Cortex unit. "It's none of anyone's business."

"Aside from the person whose boat the business occurs on."

Simon slouches a bit, hand going back up behind his collar where he _knows_ there's redness and lingering teeth marks under his shirt. Swallowing. "What, then?" Not looking up. "Do you want _details_?"

He really, really doesn't. "Got enough on my mind without any additions." Smirk unabashedly as the doc's hand lingers there for a bit. "Just, like I said before, whatever you've got between the two of you is to stay out of the way. We've got enough interferences with work without adding in more of our own."

"Yes, well." Press-smooth the collar down on his neck, moving that hand down to grip the side of the smooth plastic instead. "I understood your meaning the first time. And, I assured you, _nothing_ is interfering with anything you have to get done."

"See that you keep it that way. And talking to River would not go amiss. Girl's mighty chatty today." Tilting his head, showily pensive, just to wind the doc up a little more. "Goin' on about up against the wall or something, wasn't she?"

Mouth falling open slowly, head tilting back just as slowly before he sits down the tablet, "D-did she now..."

"That she did." Standing to go, since the doc's clearly got the message through his head. "Jayne's gettin' this same talk, too, mind you, so if there's anything else I should know, best say it now."

"I..." Staring at the captain before he blinks. Turning his head down, a vague frown there on his face, "...no. No, there... there isn't." His hand back to his nape, itching absently, expression twisting into something like a grimace at the thought of River going around and... _ai ya_...

"So we're clear. Good." Mal nodding briskly and striding out. He'll pull Jayne aside later on, give him a very concerned piece of his mind for dragging not just a crew member but a _fugitive _into bed with him.  The man's been known to think with body parts considerably lower than his brain plenty of times in the past, but this is something else. And whatever he gets out of Jayne will probably be much more revealing that Simon's stuttering.

\--

Which is how he comes to be clearing his throat pointedly, when he finds the man, until Jayne sits up on the weight bench. "Time to talk," he says shortly, watching as all the possible meanings of the statement go skimming over Jayne's face.

"Yeah, cap...?" He was just in the middle of his set…

"Weight-lifting's an honorable, tension-relieving pastime. 's good. The last thing I like is tension onboard." A jerking motion with his head. "Come on."

Jayne's face goes crumpling into something like suspicion.

Not looking over his shoulder, Mal just strides purposefully to the common area and sits down on one side of the small table. If it looks ominous, he can live with that. "I just had a mighty interesting conversation with the doctor."

Jayne at the doorway, not willing yet to come in and _sit_. Leaving his options open. "The doc?" Flash-pop images of smooth skin; arching spine; red, open mouth; supple fingers-- splayed wide. Dark head back. Teeth on flesh. Breathily whispered: “_bite me_.” And “_harder_.” Slim hips snapping back... Jayne shakes his head a bit as if to dispel the image, swallowing. "Huh."

"Yep. He gave me a lot to think on. Seems he's mighty concerned about something going on under his nice starched collar, too. Have a seat, why don't you?" The question mark is only a formality.

Jayne's lips twist, hands coming down off his hips. He stomps over to an opposite chair in that sort of awkward adult-in-a-kiddie's-playhouse way he has-- too big for everything. Settling down and not having trouble meeting Mal's gaze. "What? M'supposed to know about some ruttin' rash he's caught?"

"Okay, then. Maybe not." Smiling amiably, letting Jayne think that maybe this is the end of the conversation, then leaning in with his elbows on his knees and his voice all sharp edges. "You wanna tell me what in the bloody hell possessed you to start grappling with our medic? Our medic who is also a fugitive with a half-cocked sister and almost more trouble than he's worth as it is?"

He _stares_ at Mal, who is _staring _at him. He never could stand that. "Well, hell, Mal, I didn't hurt 'im none."

"Not what I asked."                                                                                   

Jayne settles back, knees parted wide, feet planted, arms crossing. "...he started it."

"What'd you do, drop a hint about the price on his head being a little too tempting and mention that _maybe_ if he made it worth your while, you c...wait. He _what_?" _That's_ news. Not necessarily _good_ news, since he's still stuck dealing with a merc and a medic potentially screwing over the discipline of the whole ship by screwing each other.

"The point is, I do not _need_ any more obstacles on this boat than I've already got."

"Ain't gonna be no trouble, cap'n. Nothing lovey-dovey about it. Promise. Like a... hobby-like. On my own time." Jayne nods once. As if that should clear up the whole thing.

"Last I noticed, the two of you didn't even care to look at each other." If Jayne's playing some game for his own amusement, things could get interesting very fast.

A tilt of his head, a loose shrug, hand coming up to scratch the side of his face. "Yeah... works the mind some, don't it? I dunno, Mal... I's going in there for a what I thought was a cracked rib, he got to being his snippy self, I got to being snippy myself and the next thing you know he's over the table panting like a racehorse."

Mal's eyes slip closed for a moment. He was just _leaning _on that table a few minutes ago. Get it together: he is _not_ letting Jayne off the hook by blanching at the details he's giving up. "Just like that, huh? Instant stress relief. Standard prescription, that?"

"Guess so, cap'n. Was at my door a day later, stuttering and the like. Then he was just _on_ me, y'know? Pawing and such. Made me take him up against the wall, got the door closed somehow-- wanted me ruttin' _bitin'_ on him and ruttin' _ruttin'_ him." A shrug. "Not like I don't care for it, though. Every now and again." That _Jayne_ sort of grin. "Hot and tight and willing. Always a good combo, Mal."

Could've spared him that, too. One hand up, one breath slowly released. "How long's this been going on, Jayne?"

Frown a bit, reaching up to rub at his brow, hold up a finger or two in front of himself. "Em... a few weeks? A month? Maybe more? Hell, I don't ruttin' know."

"That long..." He wouldn't have thought Jayne could handle keeping something like this on the down-low. Hm. "You know why we're havin' this discussion? It's so I can make clear that whatever it is the two of you get up to--details not necessary--don't get in the way of what you're both bein' paid for. _Dong ma_?"

A quick salute. "Sure thing, captain."

"Anything does start becoming a problem, heads will roll. Remember that."

"Rollin'. Right. Got it." Shove-pushing to his feet, wearing a sort of cock-eyed grin.

He gets up, leaves Jayne behind before he can say anything else. Admittedly, he hadn't seen this coming at all. Not till River's chance remarks, and even those he'd taken with a huge pinch of salt at first. Going up to the bridge, he finds Zoe perched on Wash's lap and just grumbles and turns right back around. _Tzao gao._

Clumping back to his lonely bunk eventually, possibly to ruminate on the thought of Jayne and Simon and whatever they’ve got going on. When the hell did that happen? They're good at keeping things under wraps, though--took long enough for him to get clued in, and this going on right under his nose. He finds himself furtively _looking_ at them as they pass him as the day goes on. Just…wondering. Had they just finished fucking? Kissing? Doing something else untoward?

It takes a disconcertingly long time to shake those thoughts from his mind


	2. Hypothesis [2/2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: He'll pull Jayne aside later on, give him a very concerned piece of his mind for dragging not just a crew member but a _fugitive _into bed with him.  The man's been known to think with body parts considerably lower than his brain plenty of times in the past, but this is something else.

Whereas meanwhile, in Jayne's bunk, Simon’s curved up against him as he's got his back to the wall, asking what exactly Jayne had _told _him. Grinning, working a crisp white shirttail out of crisp gray pants. "Not much. Think I put him off wantin' to look at the infirmary table for a while, though. Then again, maybe he got inspired."

Simon giving a swift-sharp gasp: "Oh, you _didn_\- _ah_!" Hand down the back of his pants, _squeezing_.

They still snip at each other. Now, however, there's a lot less irritation behind it and a lot more _heat_.

"I did." Let his tongue travel up the side of that white neck, nice and slow. "'Course, he might not have even believed me."

"Went easy on him, though; left out all the good parts." The way Simon had locked the door in record time and almost ripped Jayne's shirt over his head, the way those long white fingers had gouged into the medbed covering as those legs pushed open all nice and wide for him...

"Ri-River told him..." He tries to explain. Which is hard to do when he can barely keep hold of a coherent thought, eyes rolling back just like his head. Mouth open and dry, not yet kissed as fully as he'd like. Hot, wet, and messy-- Jayne's specialty. Hands against the wall, _digging_ though there's no paint to chip under his nails...

"Mmm." Always did think the girl had it in for him. "Had to have it pointed out to him, didn't he?" Mal might play the captain card for all it's worth, but he can be awfully slow sometimes. Jayne huffing a laugh up against Simon's ear, shucking the doc's trousers lower, more or less _dragging _him in closer. Abrupt and hard, but Simon's got a thing for that. First time he'd gotten down on his knees and then drawn back with some annoyance a minute later to tell Jayne he could _move, _if he wanted to, which had been hands-down the most _polite _way he'd ever been ordered to fuck anyone's mouth.

Hell, he still hadn't needed it repeated.

"She.. she said something about-- mmm_mmph_, th-the wall." Veins on the back of the hands, Simon's back curving, head dropping down until his brow is against the wall. Jayne _jerking_ him and, he can't help it, an involuntarily _yesss_ comes hissing out of him. He's _hard_. Already. Just a little rough manhandling and that's all it takes; _straining_ against the inside of his fancy underwear.

__

_"Did _she now?" Simon's talking too much, fretting too much: _take_ that mouth with his own, taste those little groans and gasps as his own tongue slips and curls over the doctor's. Hold him in place with a hand clasped through that neat black hair, the other splayed out at the small of Simon's smooth back, now and then letting a finger graze just above the cleft of his ass.

Simon squirms in Jayne's arms, lets those pants drop down to ring around his ankles, his socks and shoes still on-- gasp-whimpering into the dampness of Jayne's possessive mouth. That's what he loves. What turns him on: that _possessiveness_. _Jerk_ when one of his fingers goes exploring below his waist, _just_ there. Making him push-writhe. _Beg_ without words. A knee between his thighs-- ohgodohgod; _rock_ back against it, groaning.

The doc's still got his pants just half-down, undershirt on, and Jayne himself is fully dressed, but he can feel the heat just fine when he moves behind Simon, works a leg further between both the doc's, and _pushes_. Up against the wall, yeah. Better to get a little worked up before making it to the bed, he's found. He could do without the crazy girl knowing that, but what the hell can he do about it _now_?

One of Simon’s hands to the wall, so his face doesn't smack into it, clawing over his shoulder, at his shoulder blade, bunching that undershirt off to snatch it up over his head. Thrash his arm until it's off that hand, exchange the hand that's supporting him so he can fling it aside, humming; reach down to palm over himself through the underwear still covering his front. Drop his head back, onto Jayne’s shoulder, eyes closed, mouth wet and open; "_Jayne_..." Strained and choked. Twist-turning his head, face press-nudging into the rough facial hair and strong cheekbone, the words hissed, "_Fuck me_." Nuzzle-push his face a little harder there, knowing that Jayne will get irritated with it, will grasp his hair and force his head at whatever angle he pleased-- making hot-quick bullets of desire shoot straight to his crotch.

Stuffy, straight-up Simon, grinding on his thigh like he could get off just from that. Jayne smiles, pushes one hand just a tad lower as Simon goes shimmying out of that last layer, shaking his pants down even more, getting himself as bare as possible. Pushy, pushy, just like a privileged rich boy. The kind of entitlement complex that makes Jayne want to be contrary just for the hell of it. "Want it? Gonna work for it, open on up for me?" Rub two fingers over him, between his cheeks, through the silky cloth of his underwear, deliberately careless about letting his mouth brush against Simon's ear. Work them down, one hand out to the container tossed onto the mattress earlier; get it open. Smooth down that curving back and trace a now-slick fingertip down the cleft of him, get him shifting and pushing back all nice and eager, then turn the tables. Yeah. Moving from where he's mostly lined against the doc's back to get between his front and the wall; makes it easier to kiss him, keep tracing fingers over smooth-heated skin and mesh their mouths together like he's never gonna get the chance again. Fist that hair in his other hand, then, hold his head back-make Simon wait it out for a bit, Jayne's eyes taking in everything. Watching his eyelashes flicker and his mouth open, neck straining to angle himself in far enough for a kiss. He likes making Simon shake for it, get all impatient and aroused until it's almost like he's a different person.

Jayne doesn't kiss him right off the bat just because it'll keep him riled up that little but more. Lightly bite a nipple instead, tracing the tip of his tongue over sweat-salty skin, before kneeling to suck him in and push a finger in. All sudden like that, letting Simon catch his balance on him and the wall as needed. Teeth light on his cock, flushed and pretty as the rest of him where it's straining up towards that flat stomach; he's prepared to draw back in case Simon jolts--the doc likes the edges of pain, but Jayne's not one to take chances in this particular area.

Pull him open with both hands and swallow, then work that finger back in, deep and wet. He's quiet, the doc, but he makes the most gorgeous faces that look like half-pain and half-ecstasy and his skin gets red and he trembles and reaches and _wants_ and Jayne may not be a Companion, but he's no slouch at reading that kind of body language.  

Simon had been so certain to be careful and discreet... Almost sure that no one was the wiser. Do they know? Is it _obvious_? The captain's words still echoing in the back of his head; faint whispers of accusation. Faint little whispers of moth wings, those words, brushing at the back of his mind, then being blown away altogether-- then his mind containing nothing at all but curses. Because Jayne is-- stutter-hiss. Quietly, quietly. Deliberately teasing him, testing him-- the frustrating, infuriating, belligerent, _gan ni ni_\-- "_Jayne_," all gritty and harsh and not sounding like himself at all. His head forced back and his mouth wide. It's funny. Degrading. Makes his _blood_ burn... He didn't really sit near Jayne at the dinner table purposefully. He didn't address him any differently in the halls. His tone was not telling when he spoke to him. ...Was it? It is now, as profanity and praises bubble over. Scrabbling with nails and fingers and limbs, hips pushed up; the feel of a blunt, hard finger _stretching_\--... Breathebreath_breathe_. Now, _now_, with his paranoia creeping over him like an unwanted shadow, he feels like his ragged panting fills up every _inch_ of Serenity and then goes spilling out into the black beyond-- hell, they can probably hear him on any nearby _planets_. Hand at his own mouth, fingers curling in and nails biting at his bottom lip, eyes screwed shut, _shaking_.

Jayne withdraws because Simon’s a wreck already—face all twisted up and half-covered by a tense hand. Hardly making a sound, but trembling as Jayne grips him firmly, rubs deliberately with his thumb over the sensitive patch of skin just under the head. _Thinking_ too much, most like. Simon, he loves to make things tough on himself, but Jayne never saw a lick of sense in overcomplicating things. The captain already knows, the sister already knows, and there’s no point in enjoying things any less on account, is there? Slipping his finger out and then circling the tip back against him, inserting it only barely before drawing back and doing it again, just to see if he can get some noise out of that mouth Simon’s suddenly so intent on shutting up. “Quit it,” he says instead, and gets up to cover it with his own. Flick-shove his tongue between those lips and _in,_ fingers catching hold of that sleek black hair and mussing it up good and proper before he lets him go and sits down heavily on the side of the bed.

__

“You’ll be wantin’ to get over here sometime very soon.” They’ve done it with him bent and braced against the wall before, head ducked as Jayne’s fingers leave ten distinct marks on Simon’s hips. Pushing in just barely in order to make Simon work himself _back, _Jayne with sharp eyes and gritted teeth and not even having to _move_ as the doc squirmed and shuddered around his cock. This time, though, he doesn’t plan on Simon having the ability to brace himself anywhere—make his limbs give out until he’s got his legs spread wide and his ass pressed up and his face buried in the pillow, all pink-blushing and eager-like. Jayne sitting down on the edge of the bed, getting his boots and socks tugged off and cast aside, shirt stripped off, pants unfastened, palming himself through the cloth of his shorts at first, just watching the doc watch him.

_Quit it_, he's told. Simple as that before Simon’s mouth is pried open, a tongue ripple-pushing inside; quick-hot flashes of heat from head to toe, hips trying to rock between being gripped and being penetrated, scalp gritting against the wall, hands clutching at-- air. Suddenly. Jayne pulling away, taking those blunt, strong, damnably teasing fingers and mouth with him.  Simon's desire-darkened eyes riveted, mouth lax, pale-bare chest heaving. Bastard. Moronic, cruel, bull-headed _bastard_...

Eyes from Jayne's slightly reddened face to his abruptly naked torso. The doctor ducks, tug-jerking off his shoes which tumble across an already littered floor when he tosses them aside, followed by the socks. With his shoes off, he can just step out of the rest. Step out on the way to the bed, basically _pushing_ off the wall.

Slim hands on broad shoulders, ridges of a scar under the left set of fingers; pads of them rubbing against it, nails grazing. Simon's dark hair tumbling over his brow when he ducks his head in, uses the sudden height advantage to force Jayne's face to tilt up under the pressure of his mouth. Slickly slide his tongue in, leaving the vibration of a hum-moan on Jayne's lips before he moves down. And down, nails over biceps, Simon's bare knees to the too-hard bunk floor.

His fingers scrape at the waistband of Jayne's underwear, peeling it back and down as well as he can-- that's the thing with Jayne. He's big. _Everywhere_. That first time he'd been pressed over the exam table, and it was probably best that way; if he'd _seen_ first, he might have very well balked.

No balking here, though; just parted lips over the red-wet head, eyes fluttering closed and head dipping between Jayne's legs, hands spread on cloth-clad thighs, bunching the material as he tongues down the length of the other's cock. Sweat down the side of his temple, trickling a wet-cool line down to his jaw before it's smeared into clothing and stiff hairs.

Draw back, his bottom lip catching around the flare of the head, licking across the bitter-salty slit before withdrawing completely. Up now, using Jayne's knees for support until he's _literally_ in his lap, clenching short-cropped hair and tongue glancing off teeth. Hungry-hard sounds from Simon's throat, bare ass _grinding_ down on Jayne's legs, their cocks bump-rubbing as he undulates impatiently.

Facial hair burns against his cheek, around his mouth as he kiss-bites up the side of Jayne's throat, nails leaving streaking trails down a wide, scar-marred back, inner knees digging into Jayne’s sides. Sucking Jayne's earlobe into his mouth, testing it with his teeth before a drawn-out, whispered-hissed, "_please_" gets uttered. The captain is the furthest thing from his mind now; the captain, his sister... all lost behind in the red-hot glare of _want_.

Truth be told, Jayne’s not thinking much on the other crew members himself either. Pale eager hands grabbing at him, fingers scratching and stroking and rubbing before the doc gets the rest of his clothes off and then gets on his _knees—_Jayne’s head lolling forward, brow pinching, a gruff sound of approval unrolling; _yeah_, that’s good.

If they could see him now--that sweet hot mouth all wet and wide around him, sucking without an ounce of shame. Yeah, he’d been hard-pressed to keep that knowledge to himself after things first started up, but it wouldn’t have done to have Kaylee crying or the captain screeching over it. And Simon had been almost surprised at Jayne’s discretion, something Jayne graciously decided not to take as an insult. Simon’s got all that book-learning under his hundred-credit belt, but for all Jayne lacks in that area he isn’t an _idiot._ As amusing as it’d been having Simon freeze up like a stunned rabbit every time Jayne so much as looked at him the next day, blowing the whistle on things meant bringing an end to them just as abruptly, and he’d have to be insane to consider kicking Simon Tam out of bed. Especially with him stripped bare of both clothes and stodginess, fucking _crawling _up Jayne’s body to straddle his lap.

Rocking up against him and _whining_, almost, lapping at Jayne’s neck and _biting_ at his ear with those straight white teeth—Jayne still has his _pants _on, for God’s sake, and Simon’s curve-clinging against him like a human blanket. Jayne running a hand down that sleek, sweat-dampened back to palm the curve of the doc’s ass; repeat the same with his other hand. Lever Simon up and _forward_, knead-gripping with both hands, spreading him to let his cock rub up against and _between_, along that slick-heated tightness where he’d been pressing a finger just a minute ago. Not seeking to push any, just to let him _feel_ it. Can't imagine Simon's ever made a habit of loosening up enough to get laid regularly, whereas Jayne finds the time whenever circumstances allow; add to that the fact that Simon's a good ten years younger than him at _least _and...well, it's pretty damn gratifying getting to look on as the _doctor _does the falling apart for once.

“_Please_, hm?” Uttered in almost amused tone, right into that nicely opened mouth before he ducks to let his beard drag-scrape over a collarbone—can’t be marking up the doc’s neck or face any, much as he’d like to; nothing like that allowed, they’d both agreed on it. Anywhere under the clothes, on the other hand, that’s fair game.

If Jayne is nothing else, he's _strong_. Both those wide, calloused hands traveling down the length of Simon's back, gripping his ass, causing him to shudder and hiss audibly, clutching at Jayne’s sides, arms, shoulders. Manhandled and moved. Shift-_push_ as best he can with Jayne holding him so, whining in frustration as he can _feel_ the length of Jayne's erection _rubbing_ against him but making no move to push _in_\-- whitehot desire crawling along his nerves, shiver-cursing, nails leaving their fair share of reddened U's in Jayne's tanned skin.

"Yes_please_," vehemently, as if the other hadn't gotten the point the _first_ time, 'you _ass_' unspoken on the end of the sentence. Just winding him up. Driving him _crazy_. Would never think for a second that the hard-headed jerk wouldn't be pretty much the same as always even between the sheets. Not that either of them _are_ between the sheets. The idea still stands.

Hum as Jayne's jaw scrape-burns at the tender flesh along the collarbone, his fingers fisting in that too-short hair. Head back, throat exposed, hips _rocking_ and mouth open and silent before he can heave for breath. Drop his head forward, seek out Jayne's mouth: the itch of facial hair at the damp corners of his mouth, the sensation of a wide, wet tongue between his lips as he sucks, hands squeezing into the back of Jayne’s neck.

Draw a knee back, bare foot searching out the floor until he can stumble to his feet; grasp a hold of Jayne's trousers and undershorts, jerking-- _drag_ them off if he has to, not quite waiting for Jayne's hips to come up in order to peel them off, shove them down to his ankles. Good enough.

Jayne can manage from there. Simon's hands on his shoulders, _shoving_\-- get him back, work him onto the mattress more as well as he can; the little container is still there on the mattress where Jayne tossed it. Simon coats an ashen, slender hand, licking sweat from his upper lip, eyes half-lidded, hair a tousled mess from Jayne's too-rough hands.

He liked this. Simon knew. Jayne _liked_ disheveling him. Making a mess of him. _Liked_ pawing through all those nice, clean layers of him and getting right down to the nice, clean skin of him instead. Simon... well, _Simon_ liked it, too. No gentle caresses, no soft-whispered words of endearment; just hard-edged, overwhelming _want_. Being held down and _taken_. Everyone has a fantasy, a concept they like, that turns them on-- why his should be some weird version of faux-rape is _beyond_ him, makes him flush with shame but doesn't slow him down any when the opportunity presents itself. At least he doesn't have to openly _describe_ what he wants; Jayne instinctively just... _knows_. Doesn't make him _say_ it. ...Doesn't _make him_, anyway...

Simon's wet-warm hand around Jayne's red-_hard_ cock; his heart racing, his face burning, panting thick and needy. Watching his own grip moving up and down the thickness, the length, as if mesmerized. He could straddle Jayne's lap-- the other holding his hips, keeping his knees parted with his own thighs, drawing Simon down onto him over and over and-- swallow. Stutter. "Li-like this or... or on my back? St-stomach?" Jayne doesn't _make_ him say it...

Jayne gives a little push at that tone of voice, though: rolls his hips _up _even as he's shaking off the rest of his clothes and weaving a good hard grip through Simon's hair, just to make his eyes roll back--can't have him getting uppity. Desperate and unraveled all thanks to _him. _Simon's high-and-mighty tendencies left at the door and his mouth running and gasping and kissing seemingly all at once. Baiting Simon the same as always, only there's a whole new dimension to it now. More fun when he's more evenly matched, anyway, either in bed or out of it. Always has more of an edge when there's a little fight to it, and Simon's got plenty, despite being so much smaller and so much prissier than Jayne. Nothing nicer than being able to reach in past all those reservations and muck up the works a bit.

Pale legs open, flushed length of his cock straining and dark; all clean and inviting, like that, and Jayne's got his mouth hot and working over the other's till Simon slip-squirms away, leaving Jayne feelling a little like he's had dinner swept out from under his nose--which isn't a bad comparison, considering just how much of Simon he's put his mouth on. Might be worth looking into doing some more of that, with no interruptions: just strap him down sometime and let his mouth do all the talking without saying a word. Simon might deny it, but Jayne's got a feeling the doc would enjoy the hell out of something like th at. For now, Simon's haltingly reeling off possibilities and Jayne's just wanting to shove into all that hard-clenching muscle and fuck him till the whole damn ship can hear what they're doing. Brush of his own chest hair against Simon's skin as he drags that dark head _down, _eases fingers up the inside of a slim thigh and grips hold of him.

   
Eyes traveling back and forth between the doc's slick-gleaming hand and the way his cock is push-throbbing in Jayne's own. Wrap his fingers around one thin wrist, guiding it down as he swipes the thumb of his other hand over the tip of Simon's cock "Get yourself ready. Lemme see." Slowly and deliberately, he stretches both arms over his head and drops back onto his elbows. "Dunno if I'm up for doin' much of the work just now." Added because he knows it'll get under Simon's skin and because it's true--rather just lie back and _watch _the good doctor slip down onto him, naked and wanting and not needing to be told twice.

A sweet-sharp _'uhn_!' from Simon's mouth, head back and eyes squeezing shut, that molten hot trickle of arousal shooting down from the tug at his scalp, down his spine and middle to gather in his groin, to throb responsively in his erection.  An even sharper sound when Jayne's hand wraps around the width of him, squeezing and stroking rhythmically--in time with Simon's hand on Jayne.

Good_God_, and those words.  That gritting-growled voice.  _Get himself ready._  Right.  _Right_.  Sucking in a swift little breath, leaning over; that container again.  Slick his hand all over again and lean up, over; free hand to the bedding, his mouth over Jayne's own, starting with two wet fingers and pressing in without preamble, a long, closed-mouth _'mmmph'_ in response.

His face is on fire, his fingers curling in the same manner his tongue is curling between Jayne's lips.  _Lemme see_...  Rock back, sitting upright, spine formed into a tight arc with his dark head tilted back, crimson face to the ceiling.

Three fingers in, stretched and slippery-wet.  Wriggle forward on his knees, a shaky-glistening hand grasping a hold of the base of Jayne's cock as he stretches up, strains up-- then presses _down_.  One good, fluid roll of his hips, a choke-stuttered gasp and he's seated on Jayne's cock, Jayne's lap, fingers spread and stick-slipping against Jayne’s abdomen as he gulps down too-hot air into burning lungs.

Jayne would _laugh _if he wasn't spectacularly distracted by Simon making those _noises _like he sometimes does. Muffled and urgent and sounding even better when he's got that mouth parted wet and gasping right over Jayne's. That careful hand touching him all prim and precise despite the fact that the action itself is anything _but._. Slip, rub of that tongue along his own, of Simon's cock against his stomach--he _feels _the shudder rake through the doc's body and knows he's got a finger or two up in himself already, push-stretching and slick--_yesu, _something about watching Simon squirming on his own fingers instead of Jayne's--and then _again _when he leans back, settles himself right _there_, and then there's a spike of a sigh and a tilt of his hips...

And ain’t that a sight. He doesn't say it out loud, but he figures Simon can read the words right off his face--that's assuming Jayne doesn't fuck him to senseless to _see_.

Simon's looking almost pained and slightly stunned but pretty as ever. Eyes downcast, hair falling over his brow, cheeks stained a feverish pink--not fair that he's able to look like a blushing virgin while Jayne's got his cock up in him and his hands clasped hard on his hipbones. Get a good, long eyeful as that body arches and Simon's head drops forward--and then he's _on _him so fast Jayne can't see anything at all; just wraps an arm around Simon's middle, splays his fingers at the sweat-slippery nape of his neck, and _surges _up into him, uttering a choked-off curse. "_Yeah_."

Sole of one foot to the mattress, bracing himself that much better, blankets bunching under him and Simon clenched hard and searing-hot _around_ him: _yeah _is right. Making long sweeps of his hands down the length of that curving back, not minding the trails his fingernails leave in their wake, grip-squeezing at his ass, his nape--wherever he can remember to make his touches _last _instead of frantically trying to land everywhere at once.

Jayne's voice slipping right up under his skin, _searing_. Gasping hot and loud, head going back and Adam's apple bobbing, Simon's hands curl-clutched into claws, scratch-grasping at the straining muscles in the other's forearms. His own tense-releasing, making a play of pale-red skin, mouth dropped open and soundless before he can drag up a good and proper moan. Jayne's stronger, larger hips shoving _up_; causing him to shudder and _whine_ in response. It's hard for him to get any leverage like this, on his knees, if he'd used some kind of hand-hold and put his _feet_ flat to the bed with his knees drawn up, that'd be something different-- he could use that to shift himself _up_ then press down. As it is, however, most of the movement is in Jayne's control; strong holds on his hips, _pushing_ him up and letting gravity do the rest-- fuckfuck_fuck_.

Hard little roll-thrusts, as well as can be managed; one hand snatching away from its grasp on Jayne's arm in order to wrap around his own erection, feeling Jayne _throb_ inside him, hot and hard and-- whinewhimpergasp.

"That's it..." Low and strained in reply to Simon crying out like he is--not the usual, for him; the doc normally keeps his good manners and stays quiet in bed, something Jayne finds to be a damn shame. He's got a mental list of ways to bring about exceptions, though, and doesn't plan on ceasing to research that area any time soon. Not gonna take long, not this time, what with Simon squirm-shaking over him and one hand curled hard around his own cock.  
   
God, and _Jayne_... Jayne doing something like _praising_, it makes him burn, twist, _shiver_. Harder. Roll his hips down _harder_, driving the other deeper, tighter, his entire frame clenching reflexively-- he's coming the fuck _apart_ and the only thing he can think is, "_Jayne_." High-pitched and drawn out, gritted through nice, white teeth. Head forward, eyes slitting open, Jayne's reddened face beneath him, the strain of muscle and veins and strength. Simon _squeezing_ himself in his fist.

Hold him in place and fucking _grind _up into him. Drag one hand up Simon's back to settle between his shoulder blades and press there--get him down, get him closer, get his mouth slicking there between neck and shoulder, teeth in silky-flawless skin. Biting him while he's fucking him, muffling a groan and coming _inside _him, shoving in so hard it'll be a wonder the doc can sit down for dinner--dirty-gritty-un_Simon _behavior that makes it all just that much _better._

Quiet, muffled moaning when Jayne's mouth suck-_licks_ over his shoulder and throat, mouth hanging open. Hips _jerking_ because Jayne is _grinding_ himself up inside him, rubrub_rubbing_ just _there_ and _ohoh**oh**_\-- _biting_. A quick, hot _cry_, Simon's head falling to the side, teeth bared and eyes squeezed shut, jerking himself hard and fast because he can _feel_ Jayne coming he's clenched so tight around the other. Thick rushes of precome followed by the real thing-- his body torn between the sweethot jab of pain at his neck and the sensation of being fucked while jerking himself off. Trembling and sweating, thighs tensed to shaking, toes curling and body arched into quivering stillness.

It's _hot_, in more ways than one--spill of come over Simon's hand and Jayne's stomach, the way the boy _squeeze_s with every last muscle before going utterly slack on top of him, the humid puffs of too-fast breaths against his cheek. Jayne shifts a bit, getting more comfortable, which makes him slip partway out of Simon. Fingertip to the teeth marks on that pinked skin, then his mouth again. Simon's smooth and clean all over; the heat is almost overbearing and they'll have to move eventually, but Jayne likes touching him, finding out the effect of different places and pressures, and Simon's never let on that he minds it.

A slowly released little groan. Jayne's hands, callused and rough as they are, still feel good running over his naked form, causing shiver after shiver. He turns his hot face downward some, press-burying it against the side of the Jayne's throat, sighing thick and heavy, shoulders tensing and releasing, one messy hand against the bed, the other curled against Jayne's side, shifting minutely now and again for a few long, long moments. Savoring it. Or gathering himself together. One of the two. All it takes, just making like he's petting a cat and it has Simon almost purring like one. Sensitive--it's one of his more appealing qualities. After a time, stroking once more down the bare expanse of Simon's back and twisting onto his side to get some cool air on him. "So, think the captain heard that?"

It's sticky and sloppy-- but ever so worth it. Squirming over onto the bedding, though keeping his face firmly tucked away, Simon gives something of a groan in response, not overly wild about the idea of _anyone_ hearing. After all, just because he's sleeping with _Jayne_ doesn't mean he doesn't have _any_ pride to speak of. Honest.

It's a thought—far as Jayne can tell, Mal'd probably revise his rule against shipboard screwing if he knew about the quality of it. As it is, he's kind of impressed Simon's reaction to Mal and River catching on wasn't to start wailing about how they have to stop. Lope to the sink when he's ready, splash some water on his face and a hand towel he scrubs over himself before chucking it at Simon.

Who gives a huff at the slap of wet material against his, hello, very bare skin. Picking his head up to cast a half-hearted, squinting glower in the other's direction before gathering up the towel in a lazy hand and cleaning himself off. He's tempted to fling it right back; however, he merely folds it up and sits it on the night-table, it'll make the trip to dirty laundry when he actually feels like getting up. Or when Jayne takes it. ...Right.

Flopping back down onto the bed, Jayne halfheartedly shoving Simon over to get more room. "Bet he's jealous anyway. Just watch yourself." Nodding once. "If there's one person on here who needs to get sexed, it's him."

Grumble and wriggle over, head up before flopping it back, snorting quietly. Get over on his side and yawn against the warmth of Jayne's upper arm. "Watch myself. Right." Sounding quiet and lazy. _Relaxed_. "Any time now he's gonna jump me."

"The man's got a knack for busting himself up and seeing as cracked ribs get you hot..."

A weak swat at Jayne's middle. "Shut. Up."

Shove right back, no real force behind it. "You gonna head out?" He rarely stays over, which is probably best--there's that all-knowing loon of a sister to look after, and Jayne's really not keen on the idea of someone else seeing Simon come out of his bunk first thing in the morning.

"Should. Will. In a minute or so." Roll over onto his back so he doesn't get _too_ comfortable, pressing back his damp hair from his brow.

Fine by him. It's not unpleasant, passing out with Simon still stretched out next to him, even though he's on the side nearest the gun wall.

Simon lies there for a long moment before turning his head, knuckling at an eye almost like a sleepy child. "...you were teasing, right?" Leaning over, using his free hand to stroke down the middle of Jayne's chest-- the red fading now, pressing his lips there directly in the center of the sternum.

"That's something you'll just have to figure out." But there's no mockery in it, just a statement of fact. Close his eyes, let Simon keep at it with those light little touches. "He does stare at you an a_wful _lot, y'know." Glaring or not.

"Does he?" Soft and mildly interested, his lips pursing over a small, dark nipple. Tease it with the tip of his tongue, applying light, careful suction, his fingers curling in to skim nails down to the navel. "I haven't noticed... what's his face look like when he does it? More specifically... _what_ does he stare at?"

"Definitely the vests." Deadpan, rubbing absently at the nape of Simon's neck, eyes slitting open. "You're not so good at noticing, I've noticed." Considering Simon hadn't noticed _him_ almost till they were actually fucking. And Jayne had given him plenty of personal attention, too--granted, usually by riling him up or messing with him in one way or another, but attention's _attention._

Sigh as Jayne's large, large hand strokes softly down the back of his neck, making his eyes drift closed and his shoulders relax. "Mm..." Lick a nice, neat little trail over to the other one, giving it the same attention as the last.

"Bet he'd love to get his hands on you. Not like he'd ever say so, but..." a lifted shoulder, letting his fingers thread up through Simon's hair, "'s gotta be killin' him a little, seeing as it's _me."_

A soft, muffled little snort; Simon nosing that now wet, hardened nipple before dipping a little lower. Mouthing down the dark trail of hair to the bellybutton, testing his tongue against the roughness of it. "Now you _are_ teasing... the captain's too caught up in the ship's Companion to notice the medic." He's fairly sure about that. Besides, he's never even hinted at wanting to get his hands on anything of Simon's. Much less his body. And, while Mal was not to be fooled with, he didn't have the gruff possessiveness that Jayne did so well. That made him so fucking _hard_ it hurt to _breathe_.

"Think so? Not saying he's keen to happily wed you, y'know." Simon murmuring into his skin, Jayne's fingers circling over his scalp. "Him and 'Nara ain't ever gonna enjoy bein' together as much as they enjoy agonizing over the tragic impossibility of it. You, now...lookin' like you do, and the captain all closed-off as he is...he's done some thinking. I know it." So has he, truth be told--getting to lie back and call the shots on _both_ of them, talk Simon through every last step till he's fucking Mal so slowly they're _shaking_ on account of it.

"Yes, I think so..." Head tilting into the feel of Jayne's hand in his hair-- he'd _purr_ if he could. Instead he hums lightly to show his approval. It was funny, the first time, realizing that as soon as Jayne was done, he had no urge to shove him right out of bed. He liked to touch. Liked to linger with his hands. Which was fine by Simon. "He has not. Thought about it, I mean. I think you're just paranoid."

"Maybe you should ask him." The captain's got a thing about always being a little dissatisfied with something or another--like he's so used to being let down so much, he's gotta steer clear of any kind of happiness because it'll only get taken away again. It's Jayne's opinion that's why he's so pissy about things like crew members having relations: knowing _other _people are actually capable of letting loose or somesuch. "Paranoid you'll hop into bed with the captain, yup. That's exactly it.”

Simon has to smirk at that, lips parting, sucking softly at the end of Jayne's thumb, eyelashes shuttering. "If that happens to occur... you'll be there. Trust me."

Jayne stretches, satisfied and certain. "Yep. I know."

Someday, Simon's gonna say "You know, Jayne, you were right." Preferably while Mal's going down on him, at the very least. And that'll be a damn fascinating time.


End file.
